Recently I’ve been reading a lot.
Blogs, poems, books and the occasional fan fiction (guilty)!
This is great, I love reading and I love the pros that come with it - enjoyment, escaping reality and expanding my vocabulary - the downside? It makes me feel bad about my own writing, it makes me doubt my own ‘talent’.
It’s that feeling when you’re not even good at the one thing you’re good at. I guess writing has always been that thing that I’ve constantly wanted to do, constantly been inspired to do, I’ve always wanted to create a piece a writing, be it write a new blog post, start a new story, attempt a novel or try poetry. Writing has been the one thing that I’ve thought about as both a hobby and a career prospect but sometimes I read other people’s writing and I see how good they are and how well they use language; then I look at my writing and feel genuinely discouraged.
I can’t fluently express a point in a way other people can, I can’t use the same words in the way other people can. It’s as if they’re using this beautiful language and mine is plain, boring and dull. Okay, maybe those words all mean the same thing or have the same connotations but it’s how I feel.
Something I’ve always struggled with is comparing myself to others and silently competing with other people, I constantly feel like I should be as good as other people whether they’ve been practicing something the same length of time as me or they started five years before me.
I didn’t write for a long time in high school, there’s no real reason for this, I just didn’t. It’s left me feeling like I’ve missed out on a chunk of my writing ‘career’ that could otherwise have really changed me as a writer, had I constantly written through those four years (sorry to the rest of England who are at high school for five years, my town is quirky (or just stupid)) then maybe I’d be better, maybe I’d be at a different stage to where I am now, maybe I’d have finished a novel. Four years is a long time and to have missed out on writing for that long, to have missed out on a true passion of mine, is disheartening. It’s not as though I’ve only just got into writing, in fact I have the first ‘story’ I wrote in my bedroom, it’s about seven A4 sides long but I worked hard on it and sometimes I enjoy reading it just to see how far I’ve come.
Maybe it’s because I’m used to my own writing or because I write it myself that I think it’s not good enough but then that seems ridiculous because I’ll often write something that I’m really proud of and I honestly do think is good.
Maybe it’s good that we often become unmotivated with things we long because perhaps periods of distaste for our own work can, in reality, motivate us to do better. I know that after a certain amount of time of not writing I become overly motivated to write a load of things that have been floating around my mind, things almost boil up in my mind and I just want to write about every idea I’ve had.
In the end, I love writing and I wouldn’t stop for the world.
And that’s why I always come back to this blog, it’s like coming home after a holiday or some cliché like that.
I hope that explains why I’ve been gone for a few weeks, also this is an ‘I’m back now (potentially) post’!
Lastly, I have something a little different prepared for next week (she says) so you should all be excited for that - I’m scared but kind of excited *insert all happy and scared and wink emojis*!
